16. Jeffrey

Unfortunately, I had to go home at some point. I took my laptop, my phone, and my heart with me. Mutt kissed me at the door to my apartment. Theo had dropped us off on his way to a pack meeting—because he was a total sweetheart. Mutt's other brothers had been away over the entire weekend, and even though I was kinda disappointed I hadn't met them, I was relieved too.

Mutt had informed me that Butters had been the one who had accidentally spooked me in the road, looking torn, like half of him wanted to beat his brother up because he'd gotten me hurt, and the other half of him recognized that it had been an accident.

I told him not to worry about it, and that had been that.

As Mutt loped down the steps, I didn't mention the fact that I knew he was pretending to be my dog. Didn't mention the fact that I remembered him. That I remembered stopping for gas in Colorado and feeding a stray dog. Didn't mention the fact that I knew he'd followed me all the way to Elmwood. Didn't do anything other than lean against the doorway, lovesick, watching him walk down the steps—barefoot—while he bolted into the woods.

It was a full moon.

I knew that.

So I wasn't worried.

I knew he'd be back. I didn't need to know everything about werewolves to understand that he'd need some time for the moon. That was common knowledge. So after a fitful night full of nightmares, I went to work as usual the next day. With dark circles and a churning stomach, I fielded off Avery's worried glances and covertly tried to find books about werewolves and their mating habits when I wasn't busy working the cash register.

"Yes, Mrs. Dougal," I hummed into my work phone, flipping through the books we had stocked in the front. I was the one that had stocked them, which was why they had any semblance of order at all.

Avery's shop was all dark purples and reds, draped curtains, and black wood. I hadn't even known black wood was a thing until I worked here. There were plants shoved in every corner that could fit them, and it'd taken me weeks to get the storefront in order so customers could even find anything.

We mostly sold over-the-counter magic ingredients, basic spell and charm books, and supplies for the familiars that Avery rehabilitated and adopted out. My job was talking to customers and smoothing ruffled feathers—like now.

"No one told me there was an expiration date," Mrs. Dougal's voice was grating on the best of days.

"I am so sorry," I hummed softly. "If you'd like to bring it in I am more than happy to get you a new bottle."

"Really?"

"Absolutely!" I flipped through one of the books I'd grabbed from one of the tables, searching through the index. "If we're selling products that are not clearly labeled, that is one hundred percent on us."

She made a quiet sound in agreement.

I knew for a damn fact that the bottle of age-be-gone was freshly brewed and perfectly labeled. It only lasted a month and a half, and I could still remember the day she'd come in. I had very specifically told her all of this. But…sometimes you caught more flies with honey, and if there was one thing Lydia's training was good for, it was dealing with assholes over the phone.

"Weren't you…" I trailed off playfully. "Oh my god! Yes. You were wearing paisley when you came in." I flipped another page, humming thoughtfully under my breath.

"You remember me?" she sounded surprised. Mrs. Dougal was a five-foot ball of stress. Probably a hundred years old, and always wore colorful patterns.

"Of course I do," I flirted. "I never forget a pretty face."

"A pretty…" she trailed off shocked.

"You have the bluest eyes!" I hummed. "Never seen anything like them."

The thing about Mrs. Dougal was that she was a grouch, but a sucker for a good compliment. And I knew the best way to smooth her feathers was to poke where she was weakest.

"Really?" she sounded so damn pleased I could picture her grin already.

"Absolutely." Another page flip. "Why don't you come in later this week, hmm? I can take a look at that bottle for you and get you all sorted out."

"You know…" she trailed off, rustling around a little more. "I think I must've been mistaken! How embarrassing. I just turned my bottle around and look at that! A label right there."

"Ah! I'm so glad to hear that."

"I must've not seen it!"

"Happens to the best of us."

"Well, aren't you just the nicest young man!"

"I do my best."

Feathers officially smoothed, I parroted a few more niceties, said my goodbyes, and then groaned when I got to the end of the book because it was full of a whole lot of nothing.

The next book didn't do me any good either.

Or the next.

When I couldn't find anything up front, I resorted to drastic measures, and hunted Avery down in the back of the shop. I heard him before I saw him. His voice was muffled through the large black door that covered the hellhole of his office, so I knew he was home.

Covertly, I sent Mutt a text before I raised a fist to rap on Avery's office door.

Play it cool , I reminded myself. Cool as a cucumber.

Me

I hope you're feeling okay.

How are you doing?

How did last night go?

Thank you for this weekend.

It was honestly the best days of my life.

Texts now sent, I knocked twice.

"Come in!" Avery's voice sounded muffled through the wood. I stepped inside, and immediately was assaulted with the furry scent of animals, and the thick perfume of magic.

"Oh, Gregory, you frisky little thing," Avery cooed at his newest familiar, a fat crow that sat on the top of his head, its beady black eyes blinking. He didn't look at me, far too focused on the creature perched on glittery black claws.

Nail polish, I distantly recognized.

The bird is wearing nail polish.

I had no doubt if Avery was to blame, it was because the damn beast had asked for it.

"He's going to shit on you," I pointed out with a grin that Avery did not return.

He huffed, hands on his hips, his violet eyes flashing as he finally turned his attention to me. "Gregory is a gentleman, he would not?—"

The bird shat on his head.

"Oh–" Avery squawked, alarmed and indignant, his whole face bright red. Cheeks puffing out, eyes wide, he gingerly reached up to grab Gregory and set him down on his over-cluttered desk. As white bird shit clung to his bangs, I wheezed so hard I saw stars. I had to lean against the door frame, afraid I'd fall over as my laughter choked its way out almost violently.

"It's not that funny!" Avery hissed at me, clearly embarrassed as he waved a hand over his head, uttered a quiet incantation, and the bird shit disappeared. Fucking witches. His hair was three or four shades darker than mine, almost magenta where mine was fiery orange. The bird shit had been a nice touch.

It had real contrast.

Damn, I cracked myself up sometimes.

I sobered up rather quickly though, thoughts of Mutt plaguing me as I sucked on my lip. "Hey, Avery?"

"Yes?" Avery smiled at me, his tiny head bobbing.

"You got any books on werewolves?"

Forty minutes later, I found out that Avery had…pretty much nothing. We spent nearly half an hour hunting through the archives in the back only to come up with diddly squat. As he bent over the book-filled cabinets and shelves, he mentioned something offhand about alphas though that made me feel anxious. Something about the moon being… stronger for them, or something.

It was hard to tell what he meant.

And then we'd spent another half hour hunting through the books in his office to, again, find jack shit.

Exhausted and disappointed, I peeled my ass out of the chair I'd sat down in while he hunted. I wasn't much help. Despite having worked there since June, I still had no fucking idea how the hell things were organized. There were thousands of books between the two rooms and Avery seemed to have all of them memorized. Eyeing the door hopefully, I shuffled toward it.

"You still cool if I head out early?" I asked, now that the only reason I'd braved his office in the first place when I usually avoided it like the plague had proved fruitless. "I need to figure out what to do with my truck." It wasn't all that early. Usually I got off at six, but I figured everything would be closed by then. Businesses in Elmwood had weird-as-hell hours, due to the large vampire population—and anything that was open during the day tended to have shortened hours to accommodate for the late night schedule.

I wanted to head home and see if I would have any luck calling the mechanic.

And see if Mutt is back, I added privately.

My need to get the fuck out of Avery's office wasn't because of the mess. Well. Mostly. I wasn't the kinda guy who judged a little clutter. In fact, I loved a sprinkle of trash here and there, you know, like seasoning. It made the world less bland. Only fake people had perfect houses. Perfect offices. My aversion to order probably came from my shitty childhood. Yay for strict "shoes at the door", "no nonsense" kinda households.

Buuuut Avery's office wasn't messy so much as it was actually hell on earth.

There were thousands of books, scrolls, and letters shoved haphazardly onto the floor-to-ceiling shelves that lined all the walls. Between books were cages of all sorts, perches, and scratching posts. And the towering ceiling was always full of a menagerie of animals flapping their wings and squawking back and forth. There were raccoons that sat in the arm chairs at his desk, playing cards, and lizards that scuttled across his paperwork leaving it in disarray.

Potions, spell books, and weeks-old take-out containers covered every surface an animal or cat scratching post did not.

My very first week at the shop, a fucking rat had burst from beneath his desk and ran between my legs. I'd been so startled I'd tripped and smashed my hand in a take-out container of pasta. My new boss had looked nothing but serene, sitting his tiny ass down inside his frankly massive and garish armchair, his eyes full of warmth. All Avery had said in response to the "incident" was—"Ahhh, Beatrice. What a free spirit."

And then, after the look I'd given him, "Don't worry, Jeffrey. She'll be back."

As if that was the thing I'd been concerned about.

I'd started cleaning out the take-out for him after that, but the rats returned anyway.

So yeah.

Bird shit on Avery's head was probably the funniest thing that had happened to me in my entire fucking life, and I was going to enjoy that shit. Literally. For as long as possible. Served him right for being an actual animal whisperer or some shit.

Karma.

And I needed something to feel good about, considering how disappointed and in pain I currently felt. The ibuprofen I'd taken had worn off like an hour ago, and my head was throbbing, and I genuinely just wanted to go back to this weekend.

Back to Mutt's bed.

Our nest.

The perfectly reasonable amount of clutter in his bedroom, and the cute angry gnome that decorated it.

Back to when I was happy and whole and curled up with someone that made me forget my mistakes. Someone who made me feel like it was okay that I'd made them in the first place.

I wasn't sure what I brought to the table for Mutt. I was more surly than he was. I didn't have his sunny disposition—when I wasn't faking it—and I couldn't run with him, not like his brothers could. I couldn't shift.

Which was part of why I'd so badly hoped Avery would have some books about wolves. I'd thought…maybe if I researched enough, I could figure out how to make myself useful to Mutt. So that he'd need me like I needed him.

"Shoo, shoo," Avery flicked his hand at me in dismissal, huffing in exasperation down at Gregory like he expected to get shat on again. "I'll see what I can find and get it in for you."

Avery was the fucking best!

He turned his back to me, a clear dismissal. His little vest was cinched up in the back, his dress pants clinging to his legs in the way they always did. Despite working for himself, Avery liked to dress to impress. You couldn't catch him dead at work outside of his little suits, bowties, vests, and slick little dress shoes.

I didn't have the clearance to order books like Avery did, so I appreciated him even more now.

"Thanks, Avery! See you later."

He waved me off. Earlier, he'd been concerned when he'd seen my face. He'd tried to send me home, and I had quickly declined. Now, however, I was more than ready to be done for the day.

Luckily for me, my apartment was just off of Spruce, not far from the shop so I had plenty of time to daydream as I made the walk back home.

There were no texts waiting on my phone from Mutt, but I figured that wasn't all that weird. Last night had been the full moon, after all.

He'll text soon.

Unless…

I knew today was a bust in general…but maybe Mutt would even be waiting for me when I got home? Furry or not, I don't really care at this point.

That's a nice thought.

That someone would be there waiting for me when I came home.

Someone to tell about the bird shit on Avery's head. Someone to laugh with. To smoke with. To share shitty take-out with, to watch movies with, and to fall asleep with only to start the pattern all over again the next day.

Someone who woke up and wanted to make me smile. Someone who told me I was beautiful when I looked like a train wreck. Someone who said "hair grows" and "wounds heal" and "you are the most wonderful person in the world."

Blair had found Elmwood. He'd found a place to belong. A place he could move on and be happy. And I'd resented him for it. I'd resented the fact that he could move forward when I couldn't. And now that I'd taken that first shaky step on my own toward the future, I knew how unfair that had been.

Mutt shared his rose-colored glasses, even if he didn't mean to.

Even if he was nosy, handsy, and stupid enough to pretend to be a dog.

He felt like he was mine, when nothing else did.